


If I Didn't Care

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Cuddling, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Smut, Strip Poker, Stucky - Freeform, bucky has a dimple, i am an actual evil person, im dumb, is that what it's called?, victory parade in brooklyn, wintershield - Freeform, wintersoldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 09:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: December 24th, 1944The Howling Commandos have a rare night of comfort and peace as they prepare for their next mission - a mission that will hopefully result in the capture of Zola.--Bucky came around from behind the bar and joined Steve at the small table. He pulled out his chair and turned it around so that he was straddling it as he sat, and he smirked. “Strip poker, though.”“What?” Steve really didn’t appreciate the way his voice sounded an octave higher.Bucky’s smirk grew.“Yep. Strip poker. ‘S’not like we’ve got any money to bet anyway - and I know for a fact you lost your last piece of gum when you bet Dum Dum he couldn’t get that Italian dame to kiss him.”“You bet Dugan he couldn’t get her to kiss him,” Steve pointed out. “You bet him with my gum.”Bucky shrugged.“Details. There’s a reason I’m still a sergeant while you’ve got all the stripes.”Steve rolled his eyes, but he picked up the cards and started to shuffle them.“You’re a jerk,” he muttered.“Punk,” Bucky shot back, a glimmer in his eyes as he pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket and put it in his mouth.





	If I Didn't Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



**December 24th, 1944** **Ruggell, Liechtenstein**

  
  


“If I was Schmidt… what the hell would I be doing right now?” Steve Rogers asked the question to an empty room, his voice low and, even to his own ears, tired and weary.

  


Considering that he  _ was _ tired and weary, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

  


For once, the Howling Commandos had found themselves in, if not friendly, then at least neutral territory for the night. Falsworth had been the one to bargain with the owner of the little inn on the outskirts of town, Bucky had been the one to flirt with the middle-aged wife of the owner and secure all of them decent food, and Steve had been the unwilling subject of too much attention from the owner’s twin daughters. Which, of course, had led to the other commandos making jokes at Steve’s expense all night, and eventually, when they started to sing Christmas carols, Steve made his excuses and retreated to his room.

  


As excuses went, he had a good one - the commandos had been tasked with making Schmidt’s life a living hell and destroying HYDRA. And while the commandos had done a damned fine job of it so far, there was still a  _ lot _ of work to do. With both Schmidt and his chief scientist, Zola, still out there… 

  


If they could just get  _ Zola _ , it might give them a real chance to, if not capture Schmidt, at least figure out what his endgame was. 

  


Steve looked at the maps spread out on his bed, at the sheafs of paper he had scattered over the sheets, and sighed.

  


British Intelligence had reason to believe that a HYDRA convoy would be passing through the Austrian Alps in one week, and while no one had been able to  _ confirm _ that Zola would be on the train, the Brits apparently had a  _ hunch _ .

  


Which meant that the commandos had one week to scout the area and figure out the best way to get onboard that train - in the snow, in the Alps, in enemy territory.

  


_ Piece of cake _ , Bucky had said with that lopsided smirk of his when Steve relayed their mission to the group.  _ It’ll be like that time we snuck into Gino’s bakery so you could leave Amelia a Valentine’s card. _

  


_ How did that go? _ Dugan had asked.  _ I thought Steve had awful luck with broads. _

  


Bucky’s grin had nearly split his face.  _ He does. We got caught, and Gino threatened to castrate us if we ever came near his daughter again. Plus, it turned out she was already dating a guy. _

  


And with that, the ‘briefing’ had devolved into all of the commandos trying to one-up each other with stories of their worst romances. 

  


Six hours later, it finally sounded like the commandos had run out of stories and songs, or maybe just out of alcohol - the inn was silent except for the whisper of the wind and snow against the windows. 

  


Steve figured he might as well check to make sure everyone had found their beds - no point in going to the trouble of staying in the inn if Morita and Jones fell asleep on the floor by the bar. They would complain about it for days, if not weeks.

  


As he made his way down the stairs to the main level of the inn, Steve saw the flickering light of a fire still in the large hearth of the main room.

  


Maybe someone was still awake, after all?

  


He turned the corner, entering the room, and saw a lone figure sitting on a stool in front of the bar, left arm propped on the bartop, head resting on that hand. 

  


Even with just the fire to illuminate his silhouette, Steve knew who it was.

  


“Buck?” he called softly.

  


The other man jerked upright in surprise, and then turned.

  


Bucky offered a faint smile.

  


“Steve. You finished planning how we’re gonna win the war?”

  


“Yeah. I actually started working on the parade route for our victory celebration when we get back to Brooklyn.”

  


Bucky let out a huff of laughter and shook his head.

  


The humor was shallow, though, and didn’t reach his eyes. Which, Steve hated to think about, was more or less how Bucky always looked these days.

  


It had been rough, those first few weeks after Steve rescued Bucky from Azzano. Even now, more than a year later, he still woke up from nightmares of Zola experimenting on him, still refused to tell Steve what, exactly, they had done to him. But it was really only in the last few months, really just since October, Steve thought, that Bucky had become a shell of the man he once was. 

  


He was still an excellent soldier, still the Sergeant Barnes who had a reputation of being the best shot in the whole of the Allied forces, still had that lopsided smirk that could win him the heart of just about any dame, or a spare cigarette from any joe. But his eyes… his eyes were tired.

  


He looked like Steve felt.

  


Steve sat down on the stool beside Bucky.

  


“I’ll have a double,” he said , raising two fingers to the empty space behind the bar.

  


Bucky snorted and slid off of his stool.

  


“Comin’ right up, Stevie,” he said, and walked around the bar.

  


Steve watched as Bucky poured two glasses of whiskey - two  _ very _ full glasses of whiskey.

  


Bucky slid one towards Steve, and picked the other up himself.

  


“Merry Christmas?” Bucky suggested the toast.

  


It didn’t feel much like Christmas, except, of course, that Steve was with Bucky. And all of his best memories of Christmas involved Bucky. Hell, all of his best memories period involved Bucky.

  


“Merry Christmas,” he agreed, and clinked their glasses together.

  


Steve took a sip of his, but Bucky tossed back his entire glass with a grimace.

  


A drop of amber liquid escaped the corner of his full mouth and trailed down his chin. Steve watched its progress through Bucky’s stubble until the other man wiped at it.

  


“You ever… you ever regret what they did to you, Stevie?” Bucky asked him, the question seemingly out of nowhere.

  


“No,” Steve answered immediately. “This is who I was meant to be, Buck. This is my chance to make a difference, to really help people. To stop the bullies.”

  


Bucky’s lips twisted into a sour expression, but he nodded.

  


“Do  _ you _ ?” Steve asked.

  


Bucky heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, disheveling his too-long bangs.

  


“Hell, Stevie, I- I don’t know. Before, you were safe, you were back home, and you didn’t have Nazis and HYDRA shooting at you. But now… now, you’re not going to fall over coughing or spend another month in the hospital with pneumonia or… I don’t know, okay?”

  


“Okay.” Steve knew this was a sore subject for Bucky, knew that his best friend was still - probably would  _ always _ be - angry that Steve had found himself a way into the war.

  


He had to turn away from Bucky, from the look in his eyes and the downward curve of his mouth, before he did or said something to make it worse.

  


Steve looked around the room, at the handful of wooden tables and chairs, the garlands of pine boughs looped over the rafters and around the fireplace.

  


There was even a fir tree in one corner of the room, and it reminded Steve of the last Christmas he had had with his mother, reminded him of the day he and Bucky had trudged through miles of snow and slush, hauling a tree back to his apartment and setting it up before his mother got home from the hospital that night, reminded him of he and Bucky sitting together by the stove, blankets wrapped around them as they shivered side by side and their clothes dried on the radiator.

  


Steve looked away from the tree and saw that someone - probably Dernier - had left a deck of cards on one of the tables.

  


“Hey, isn’t it my turn to beat you at poker?” he asked Bucky, throwing a challenging smirk over his shoulder.

  


Bucky raised his eyebrows.

  


“Haven’t you been saying that since the first time I beat you at poker? When we were - what? Eight?”

  


“Doesn’t mean it’s not still my turn,” Steve argued.

  


Bucky shook his head, but there was, Steve didn’t think he was imagining, a bit of warmth in the slight tilt of his lips and his grey eyes.

  


“Sure, sure.” Bucky came around from behind the bar and joined Steve at the small table. He pulled out his chair and turned it around so that he was straddling it as he sat, and he smirked. “Strip poker, though.”

  


“What?” Steve really didn’t appreciate the way his voice sounded an octave higher.

  


Bucky’s smirk grew.

  


“Yep. Strip poker. ‘S’not like we’ve got any money to bet anyway - and I know for a  _ fact _ you lost your last piece of gum when you bet Dum Dum he couldn’t get that Italian dame to kiss him.”

  


“ _ You _ bet Dugan he couldn’t get her to kiss him,” Steve pointed out. “ _ You _ bet him with  _ my _ gum.”

  


Bucky shrugged.

  


“Details. There’s a reason I’m still a sergeant while you’ve got all the stripes.”

  


Steve rolled his eyes, but he picked up the cards and started to shuffle them.

  


“You’re a jerk,” he muttered.

  


“Punk,” Bucky shot back, a glimmer in his eyes as he pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket and put it in his mouth.

  


Steve glared, and Bucky laughed.

  


It felt good to hear him laugh, and Steve realized it had been far too long since he had heard that laugh - Bucky’s  _ real _ laugh. The laugh that felt like the Boardwalk in July, with the sun shining bright and the breeze just barely there.

  


He dealt the cards, and immediately remembered why he always lost at poker: he had the  _ worst _ luck.

  


The first card went facedown in front of Bucky, and then himself. The next card was face-up - an ace of hearts for Bucky, and a three of diamonds for Steve.

  


A quick glance at his other card revealed a five of clubs.

  


Across the table, Bucky was wearing the shit-eating grin that he knew Steve hated.

  


Steve sighed and tossed down the burn card before placing another card face-up in front of Bucky. Ace of clubs. And Steve got saddled with a three of hearts. 

  


_ Great. A pair of threes to a pair of aces. _

  


Another burn card, and then the jack of hearts for Bucky and a ten of clubs for Steve.

  


One more burn card, and another ace - spades this time -for Bucky, and the ten of hearts for Steve. 

  


Bucky indolently flipped over his first card - ace of diamonds, because  _ of course _ it was the ace of diamonds, and then tapped on his lip with his right forefinger as he considered Steve.

  


“Alright, off with the sweater. Let’s see what Captain America really looks like, huh?”

  


“I hate you,” Steve muttered, but he never backed down. So he pulled off his sweater and tossed it to the floor. He was grateful that he still had his undershirt on - it wasn’t exactly warm down here, even with the fire.

  


“You should get a tattoo,” Bucky said, and tapped on his own left deltoid. “Right here. Get that Captain America star.”

  


“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

  


“I’m telling you, dames love soldiers with tattoos. They always think there’s some important story behind ‘em.”

  


“Oh, yeah? And what tattoos have you been using to sweet-talk dames into your arms these days?” Before the war, Bucky hadn’t had any tattoos.

  


Steve felt a strange, unwelcome twist in his gut at the thought that Bucky had gone off and gotten a tattoo without him. 

  


“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Bucky winked. “Well, maybe not. With your luck…”

  


“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Just deal.”

  


“Relax, sweetheart. We’ve got all night - unless you’re in a hurry to get naked.”

  


“You realize that I’m bigger than you now, right?”

  


“Stevie, I  _ taught _ you how to fight. I don’t care how big you are, I know all your moves.”

  


Which was, of course, entirely true.

  


“Fine. Just- deal.”

  


Bucky grinned again and did as ordered.

  


Twenty minutes later, and Steve was sitting there in nothing but his socks and briefs while Bucky was still entirely clothed.

  


“I hate you,” Steve muttered as he threw down his latest hand and pulled off his right sock.

  


“Sure you do.” Bucky sat up straighter in his seat and peeked over the edge of the table, grinning at Steve struggling with his sock. “You hate me so much that you tricked some crazy scientist into shooting you full of whatever just so you could come over here and have a front row view of my ass every day. Because you hate me.”

  


Steve glared, but he was fully aware that his state of being mostly naked wasn’t making him look very intimidating. At all.

  


“Give me the cards.”

  


Bucky held the deck up in one hand, his grey eyes flicking over Steve’s bare torso and up to his face, eyes practically  _ dancing _ with joy, and his smile so sloppy and giddy that it was impossible for Steve not to smile back at him.

  


“You know, Stevie, you’ve only got one sock and your briefs left - you wanna go ahead and call it a night now?”

  


“No. It’s my turn to win,” Steve stubbornly insisted.

  


“You do know that’s not how poker works, right?”

  


Steve did, in fact, know that wasn’t how poker worked.

  


But just in case he didn’t, fate made sure he lost the next two hands, and left him sitting naked on a wooden chair in an Alpine inn in Liechtenstein on Christmas Eve, while his best friend sat across from him laughing.

  


All in all, Steve could think of far worse ways to spend Christmas.

  


“One more hand,” Steve insisted.

  


“What are you gonna do, start removing teeth?” Bucky teased.

  


“No, I’m going to win the next hand.”

  


Bucky snorted.

  


“And if you don’t?”

  


“Then you can have whatever you want as your penalty - you can have all of my gum for the rest of the war.”

  


Bucky shook his head.

  


“No way, war could end tomorrow - and then I’d have  _ no _ gum.”

  


“Because you bet my last piece,” Steve reminded him.

  


“You don’t even like gum, Stevie,” Bucky pointed out.

  


“Yeah, but I was saving it for-” Steve cut himself off and glared.

  


“For…?” Bucky’s shit-eating grin was back on his face, and he nudged Steve’s leg under the table. “Saving it for…  _ Agent Carter _ ?” Bucky winked. “I’m going to let you in on a secret, pal, you don’t have to offer Agent Carter a stick of gum to get her attention.”

  


Steve flushed and shook his head.

  


He knew that. He  _ knew _ that Peggy was… interested in him. Which was, frankly, scary as hell. Peggy Carter was the most amazing woman he had ever met, and Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that  _ she _ looked at him like he mattered, like she cared about him, like she  _ wanted _ him. 

  


Before her, the only person who had ever looked at Steve in any way that even came close to that was Bucky. And Steve knew it wasn’t the same, knew that Bucky, with his endless flirtations, who could get nearly any girl he wanted - when Bucky looked at Steve with warmth in his eyes, it was friendship, it was decades of having each other’s backs and…

  


“I was saving it for you,” Steve admitted. 

  


Bucky stared at him, and Steve felt himself blush even more. 

  


The moment stretched, awkward to the point of being painful, before Bucky finally cleared his throat.

  


“Well, then there’s no way I’m betting you for all of your gum for the rest of the war - not if you’d just give it to me anyway. No, no, I think I want something else…”

  


Steve rolled his eyes.

  


“What? You want to try on the uniform again?”

  


“Nah, once was enough for me. Besides, your ass is so narrow that thing is too tight on me.”

  


“My  _ ass _ is narrow?”

  


“Well, more your hips. Your ass is perfect.”

  


_ That _ wasn’t what Steve had expected to hear, and the look on Bucky’s face made it clear that  _ he _ hadn’t expected to say it.

  


“Is it now?”

  


Bucky rolled his eyes, but Steve was  _ positive _ his cheeks were pink.

  


“I’m just repeating what I hear, Rogers.”

  


_ Rogers _ . Not  _ Stevie _ . That meant he had hit a nerve.

  


“Who have you heard talking about  _ my _ ass?”

  


“People. People talk about Captain America, you know.”

  


“Do they?”

  


Bucky slouched down in his chair.

  


“Yeah, they do.”

  


“Well, in  _ your _ expert opinion, how is my ass?”

  


Bucky tilted his head, his gaze considering. 

  


“Dunno. Stand up and let me get a look.”

  


Steve should have known better - and if he was honest with himself, he  _ had _ known better - than to think Bucky would back down. 

  


They were wired the same way: too stubborn to back down, even from each other. 

  


So Steve stood up, walked around to Bucky’s side of the table, and turned around to present his ass for inspection.

  


Bucky snorted a laugh.

  


“Well, does it pass muster?”

  


“Christ, Rogers.”

  


There it was again -  _ Rogers,  _ not  _ Steve _ . Definitely not  _ Stevie _ .

  


And then Bucky  _ spanked _ him.

  


Steve let out a yelp of surprise, and turned to see Bucky grinning up at him.

  


“Sit down and deal.”

  


Steve took his time walking back to his seat, smirking when he heard Bucky snort in amusement.

  


He sat down and picked up the cards.

  


“You decided on what your penalty is going to be  _ if _ you manage to win another hand?”

  


“You mean  _ when _ I win another hand?” Bucky corrected.

  


Steve shrugged.

  


“Semantics.”

  


Bucky rolled his eyes.

  


“Yeah, yeah, I know what I want when I win.”

  


There was a look in his eyes that Steve had never seen before, somewhere between amusement and… heat.

  


It made Steve shiver.

  


Or maybe that was the cold, since he was  _ naked _ .

  


He finished shuffling and started to deal.

  


All it took was three cards before Steve knew he had lost. Again.

  


“I think you cheat,” he muttered as he laid down  _ another _ ace on top of the other two already showing on Bucky’s side of the table.

  


“No need to cheat when I’m just lucky.”

  


“You got captured by HYDRA, Bucky. I think your definition of luck is a little lacking.”

  


“Sure,” Bucky shrugged, “but then I got rescued by Captain America. Bad shit happens to everyone - but  _ good _ shit also happens to people who are lucky.”

  


Steve dealt the last card - a ten of diamonds for Bucky that wasn’t at all impressive, but with at least  _ three aces _ in his hand, it hardly mattered.

  


And a six of clubs for himself.

  


Which meant…

  


Steve swallowed hard and looked at his hand.

  


He already had a six of spades showing, as well as the two of clubs and two of hearts. But two pair wasn’t going to beat three aces - and definitely wasn’t going to beat a full house if Bucky’s hidden card was another ten.

  


Steve peeked at his own hidden card. Six of diamonds.

  


Full house.

  


He looked up to see Bucky smirking as he flipped over his card. King of hearts.

  


Which meant- which meant Steve had won.

  


For the first time  _ ever _ , Steve had beaten Bucky in a hand of poker.

  


“Well?” Bucky prompted him, that look back in his eyes.

  


Steve swallowed hard and ran his thumb over the edge of the card.

  


Then he drew in a deep breath, swept his cards in amongst the rest, and exhaled.

  


“Alright, fine. Your luck’s holding out. What do you want?”

  


“Aw, not much,” Bucky leaned back in his chair. “Just what everyone wants from Captain America.”

  


“An autograph? Really? What do you want me to sign?  _ Your _ ass?”

  


Bucky grinned so wide that the dimple in his left cheek winked into existence for a moment.

  


“Nah, the  _ other _ thing everyone wants from Captain America.”

  


Steve crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

  


“What?”

  


“A kiss.”

  


Steve stared.

  


He was fairly certain Bucky had just said-

  


“Just one,” Bucky tapped his own mouth. “Right here.”

  


“You want me to kiss you,” Steve repeated, because- because was this  _ really happening _ ?

  


“Yep.” Bucky’s grin had diminished somewhat, drifting into the fixed, forced expression of good humor he wore when he was cracking jokes under gunfire to keep everyone else from panicking.

  


Steve’s mouth, his entire  _ throat, _ felt dry, and his heart hammered against his sternum as if it was trying to escape his chest.

  


“Sure,” Steve said, because what the hell  _ else _ could he say?

  


He stood up from his chair, holding Bucky’s gaze as he walked back over to him.

  


Bucky remained seated, which presented Steve with a fairly awkward angle, and what was he supposed to do here?

_ What _ , he thought with a smirk, _ would Bucky do _ ?

  


He reached for Bucky’s chin and tilted his head back.

  


Bucky’s eyes flared wide, and then narrowed as Steve leaned down.

  


Steve brushed his lips over Bucky’s, feeling the scrape of his stubble, the smooth skin of his mouth, the soft puff of air as Bucky exhaled.

  


And Steve, for the first time since he had been injected with Dr. Erskine’s serum, felt weak-kneed.

  


He straightened up and took a faltering step backwards.

  


Bucky’s eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed and his mouth- 

  


Steve surged forward and kissed him again.

  


Bucky’s arms were instantly around him, pulling Steve into his lap, calloused fingers digging into the muscles of Steve’s back and-

  


_ Christ _ .

  


Bucky sucked on Steve’s lower lip, nipped at it, and Steve groaned. He groaned, he definitely didn’t moan. Captain America wasn’t supposed to moan.

  


Hell, Captain America wasn’t supposed to climb into his best friend’s lap, naked as the day he was born, and shove his tongue in said best friend’s mouth.

  


Steve had never been good about following rules.

  


Bucky’s hands drifted lower, squeezing Steve’s ass and pushing Steve’s hips down, and that time Steve definitely moaned.

  


Because the friction of Bucky’s canvas trousers against Steve’s bare, suddenly rather interested cock, was amazing.

  


“Buck,” Steve gasped.

  


“Yeah, Stevie?” The words sounded breathless, and Bucky’s mouth worked its way across Steve’s jaw and to his ear.

  


Steve tilted his head back as Bucky licked the shell of his ear, and Steve had watched Bucky do this with girls countless times, had listened to the needy sounds of their pleasure, had heard Bucky’s low, deep chuckle as his nimble fingers and so  _ damn _ talented mouth danced across their skin and under their clothes, and Steve had always been jealous. He had  _ thought _ he was jealous of Bucky, of his skill - of his  _ luck _ and his good looks.

  


But now, Steve was pretty sure he had been jealous of those girls. 

  


Because James Buchanan Barnes knew  _ exactly _ what to do with his mouth.

  


“We can’t- we can’t do this-”

  


Bucky froze, teeth and lips sliding away from Steve’s sensitive earlobe, his entire body retreating as much as possible considering that Steve was still in his lap.

  


His face was completely, painfully blank.

  


He looked, Steve thought with a sick feeling, like he had when Steve had unstrapped him from that table in Zola’s lab in Azzano.

  


“We can’t, huh?” Bucky said, before nodding and locking his jaw. He swallowed, the muscles in his cheeks and throat working so hard that Steve could all-too-easily see the movements. “No, I guess we can’t. Captain America doesn’t go around- doing this, does he?”

  


Bucky shook his head and looked away from Steve.

  


“Will you shut up for a minute, you jerk?” Steve grabbed Bucky’s face and forced him to meet his gaze.

  


Bucky tried to shake him off, but Steve didn’t let him.

  


He ignored Bucky’s glare.

  


“We can’t do this  _ here _ . Anyone could walk in and find us like this.”

  


“Oh.”

  


Steve rolled his eyes.

  


“Why is it again everyone thought  _ you _ were the smart one?” he muttered.

  


Bucky grinned at him, and turned his head enough to press a kiss to Steve’s palm.

  


“‘Cuz I’m better at fooling people than you are, Stevie.” 

  


“My room is closer.”

  


Bucky laughed.

  


“There’s the Star Spangled Man With a Plan.”

  


Steve glared down at him, but Bucky nipped at his hand.

  


They gathered up Steve’s discarded wardrobe, and then tip-toed their way back up the stairs and into Steve’s room.

  


Bucky closed the door, dropped the pile of clothes in his hands, and grabbed Steve ass.

  


“You know those people who called my ass perfect?” Steve asked as he backed Bucky up against the door.

  


Bucky kissed his mouth, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids.

  


“What about them?” he asked, a laugh in his voice.

  


“I’m thinking they only called it perfect because  _ you _ told them it was.”

  


“You can’t prove a thing, Rogers.”

  


Steve kissed him until Bucky grinned, and then kept kissing him until Bucky stopped grinning and his lips parted and their tongues met.

  


Bucky’s hands roamed over his back, his ass and his thighs, alternating between squeezing and caressing and dragging his nails over Steve’s skin, and it was the most delicious torture Steve could imagine.

  


It also, he decided, deserved to be reciprocated.

  


He unbuttoned Bucky’s shirt, with absolutely zero finesse or care of the buttons. He didn’t even wince when one of them went flying off to god only knew where.

  


Against Steve’s lips, Bucky laughed.

  


His left hand smoothed over Steve’s chest, the right still clutching Steve’s ass like he was never going to let go.

  


Bucky tweaked Steve’s left nipple, just a gentle pinch, but Steve broke away from the kiss with a hiss.

  


“Not good?” Bucky asked, smoothing his thumb over the spot in an apology.

  


“No, it was good. Very good,” Steve assured him. Good enough that it had felt like there was a string connecting his nipple and his dick, and when Bucky grinned and repeated the gesture, Steve swore and rocked against him.

  


“Oh, yeah. I can see that now,” Bucky laughed, just a huff of air before he was lowering his head and flicking his tongue over Steve’s other nipple.

  


“Buck,” Steve clutched at his head.

  


He had seen Bucky do  _ this _ with girls too and- and Steve had had no idea it felt this good. 

  


But then Bucky was sinking down to his knees, dragging his lips and his tongue and his teeth over Steve’s trembling abs and lower, nose pressed against Steve’s pubic hair, and his mouth-

  


“Buck!” Steve had to shove a fist into his mouth as Bucky’s tongue flicked over Steve’s cock, just a too-brief caress of the head before Bucky sat back on his knees and smirked up at him.

  


“Not good?” he asked again, the look in his eyes wicked.

  


“Jerk.”

  


“Punk.”

  


Bucky held Steve’s eyes as he leaned forward and licked Steve’s cock again, this time using the flat of his tongue to swipe down the entire length, from the crown to the root, and Steve had to brace his hands against the door.

  


“ _ Buck _ ,” he moaned.

  


“Tell me what you want,” Bucky said, the words humming against Steve’s cock, and he shuddered and sucked in a breath and tried to steady his heart.

  


No luck, especially not when Bucky opened his mouth and  _ sucked _ on the head of Steve’s cock.

  


“ _ You’re going to kill me _ ,” Steve bit out.

  


Bucky laughed around Steve’s cock, and there was no  _ way _ that should feel as good as it did.

  


“This,” Steve gasped, “I want this.”

  


Bucky looked up at him, that same expression from before back in his eyes, and it took Steve’s breath away.

  


_ More _ away. 

  


Bucky was already doing a damn fine job of keeping him breathless.

  


Steve gave a gentle, experimental roll of his hips, sinking deeper into the tight, wet heat of Bucky’s mouth.

  


Bucky coughed, and Steve immediately pulled away.

  


“Sorry. Sorry, I-”

  


Bucky waved a hand.

  


“It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting it. I, uh, I’ve never done this before,” he admitted with chagrin.

  


“Really?”

  


Bucky raised his eyebrows.

  


“Contrary to popular opinion, I  _ don’t _ sleep with everything that moves, Rogers.”

  


“No, no, I just- You’re so good at it,” Steve admitted.

  


Bucky’s dimple-wide grin was back.

  


“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m not about to disappoint Captain America. Let’s try that again - now that I know what it feels like when you move.”

  


“You- you want me to do that again?”

  


“Stevie, I want you to do whatever you want. You got any idea how long I’ve wanted to be with you?”

  


Steve swallowed hard and shook his head.

  


“Steve Rogers, I’ve been in love with you since the day I found you cornered in an ally, trying to take on three guys twice your size because they stole some other kid’s ice cream. I just- I never figured I’d get the chance to do this with you.”

  


“I didn’t know.”

  


“Yeah, and now you’re gone on Agent Carter, and Steve, I know. I get it. You deserve to be happy, and she- she’s gonna make you so happy. But tonight, tonight, let me make you happy, okay?”

  


There was too much Steve wanted to say, too much he  _ felt, _ and he didn’t- he couldn’t-

  


He nodded, because it was the only thing he could do.

  


Bucky grinned at him again.

  


“Good. Now, where were we? Oh yeah, I was sucking Captain America’s  _ perfect _ dick.”

  


Bucky opened his mouth, winked at Steve, and put his hands on Steve’s ass again. He used his grip to propel Steve’s hips forward, urging Steve’s cock between his lips and into his mouth, deeper than before, so deep that Steve could see Bucky’s cheeks bulge, and then Bucky was tilting his head and relaxing his jaw, and Steve gasped.

  


It was  _ so  _ tight. So hot, so  _ perfect, _ and Steve was pretty sure that  _ nothing _ on this Earth would ever feel as amazing as Bucky’s mouth around his cock, Steve so deep that Bucky’s lips were pressed against Steve’s groin, and Steve had to close his eyes to the sight of absolute bliss on Bucky’s face so that he didn’t come right on the spot.

  


He drew in a few unsteady breaths, and then eased out of Bucky’s mouth a few inches before pushing forward again.

  


Bucky groaned, and Steve had to open his eyes, had to look down.

  


Bucky was watching him, lips wide and wet, cheeks full, pupils so dark and huge there was no grey left in his eyes at all.

  


“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” Steve whispered.

  


He reached down with one hand to run his fingers over Bucky’s cheek, his jaw, his throat that was tight and filled with  _ Steve _ .

  


He pulled out and pushed in again, setting a slow, shallow rhythm that felt simultaneously wonderful and  _ awful _ because it felt so, so good but Steve wanted more.

  


“Can you-” Steve didn’t even know what to ask for.

  


“Hm?” Bucky hummed, and Steve saw stars.

  


“That. Do that.”

  


Bucky hummed again, and then started to move himself, pulling back when Steve did and then surging forward to meet him, resulting in more friction, more pressure, and the  _ humming _ was sending little shocks of pleasure straight to Steve’s balls, and he felt the tight heat coiling in his belly that meant he was close.

  


Bucky’s fingers were digging into his ass so hard that Steve wondered if he would leave bruises, and he had the sudden hope that he  _ did _ leave bruises so that Steve would be able to feel them and think about  _ this _ , think about Bucky and-

  


Steve came with a sudden, desperate thrust that he couldn’t control.

  


Bucky gagged, but held Steve in place when he tried to pull away, swallowing Steve’s come, eyes closed and looking for all the world like he was  _ savoring _ it instead of struggling to breathe around the mouthful.

  


It was- overwhelming, intoxicating, all of the wonderful, nameless things Steve had never felt before in his  _ life _ .

  


But then it was  _ too _ much, Steve’s cock sensitive, and just the brush of Bucky’s tongue against it making Steve shudder and  _ mewl _ like a kitten.

  


He pulled away, and Bucky let him, leaning back against the door, still on his knees and breathing hard.

  


“Oh my god, Bucky,” Steve panted.

  


Bucky wiped at his chin, smearing saliva and come across the back of his hand.

  


He grinned at Steve.

  


“So, was that worth you letting me win?”

  


Steve blinked.

  


“You- How did you know?”

  


Bucky rolled his eyes.

  


“Steve Rogers,  _ you _ are a terrible liar. You looked at your hidden card, and I swear, you practically bounced on your damn chair.”

  


“But you- you let me let you win.”

  


Bucky’s grin was sharp and predatory as he rose to his feet.

  


“Yeah, well, the real reason everyone always thought I was the smart one is ‘cuz I am, Stevie. You think I was gonna pass up my chance to do this?”

  


Steve arched an eyebrow.

  


“What if I’d said no?”

  


Bucky shrugged.

  


“You’re my best friend. If you’d said no, you would have called me a horny drunk and sent me off to bed, and I’d’ve tried my best to stop thinking about you. Woulda failed, but I woulda tried.” Bucky grinned again. “It was worth the risk. And with  _ my _ luck…”

  


Steve rolled his eyes.

  


“You and your dumb luck. You’re such a jerk, Bucky.”

  


Bucky shrugged, and then shoved his hands into his pockets.

  


“Well… I guess I should, uh, let you get back to your planning?” Bucky gestured at the maps and papers spread over Steve’s bed.

  


Steve scowled at him.

  


“What the hell are you talking about?”

  


“I mean, you…” Bucky gestured at Steve. “You’re good, so I should…”

  


“What about my turn?”

  


Bucky stared at him.

  


“You… you want to do that? With me?”

  


Steve nodded, and then grinned.

  


“‘Course, I don’t have as big of a mouth as you, so I don’t know how good I’ll be at it.”

  


Bucky rolled his eyes.

  


“You’re a punk, Rogers.”

  


“And you’ve got too many clothes on, soldier.”

  


Bucky sucked in a breath at Steve’s tone, and his throat worked.

  


“What, you gonna order me to strip,  _ sir _ ?” he rejoined, with just enough sass in his voice that Steve was almost distracted from the sight of Bucky licking his lips. Almost.

  


“Sure am. I’m Captain America, if you didn’t realize. So I  _ am _ ordering you to strip. Right now, soldier.”

  


Bucky’s fingers, usually so confident and smooth, fumbled with the few remaining buttons on his shirt that Steve hadn’t managed to destroy. And then he was shoving the shirt off of his shoulders, revealing the broad, clean lines of his chest and arms, and the smooth, taut skin over his abs. Steve had seen Bucky without a shirt so many times before, knew what he looked like without having to actually  _ look _ at him. But this… seeing Bucky standing before him, seeing his chest heave with uneven inhales and ragged exhales, and knowing that  _ Steve _ was the cause of Bucky’s completely wrecked expression, was a powerful, heady thing.

  


“Don’t forget your trousers, soldier.”

  


Bucky jerked his hands free of the shirt, flinging it across the room before setting his fingers to work unfastening his belt and then unbuttoning the fly of his canvas trousers. He shoved both the trousers and his boxers down in one go, and then had to lean back against the door and awkwardly kick at his own feet as the fabric tangled with his boots.

  


Steve laughed, and Bucky glared at him.

  


“Need a hand?”

  


“Who would say no to Captain America getting down on his knees?” Bucky snarked.

  


Steve did exactly that, and he reached for Bucky’s left foot, easing the boot off and tugging his trousers, boxers and sock free before he moved to do the same to the right.

  


And then he sat back on his haunches and looked up the length of Bucky’s body.

  


After Steve’s mother had died, he had lived with the Barnes’s, sharing Bucky’s room for three years before the two of them moved out and got their own apartment, a two bedroom disaster that was always leaking or falling apart, but felt like heaven. They went to Brooklyn College part-time, and Steve worked odd jobs for the  _ Daily Eagle _ while Bucky worked as a machinist, the same job his father had had before he had been laid off during the Depression, and they both dreamed of the future.

  


Steve’s dreams of the future had always included Bucky - everything  _ always _ included Bucky. But sometimes, sometimes, those dreams had included Bucky holding him, Bucky looking at him with heat in his eyes and that grin on his lips that he reserved for the dames that he really, really liked. 

  


The same look Bucky was giving him now.

  


Steve swallowed hard.

  


“You don’t have to, Stevie,” Bucky said.

  


Which reminded Steve of the task he had committed to. 

  


He had seen Bucky naked before, had even seen him sporting a morning erection and- and all of those times were so very,  _ very _ different than this moment.

  


He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s length, feeling the silky-steel girth of him. It was similar, but breathtakingly different than touching himself. Bucky was thicker, longer than Steve, and his cock was dark with arousal, the slit at the head glimmering with pre-come. 

  


Steve swallowed hard and leaned forward to taste it.

  


Salty, bitter, both different and unique to the way his own come tasted. 

  


He wanted more.

  


Steve licked down the shaft, trying to copy Bucky’s early movements, and Bucky shuddered and made shallow, gasping sounds that were the most amazing things Steve had ever heard.

  


“Oh, Stevie. Fuck, Stevie, you’re so perfect.”

  


Steve felt his heart constrict, at the words, at the tone. He had heard Bucky pepper girls with compliments before, had heard him laughing and teasing as he kissed them. He had never sounded like this, had never said  _ their _ names like he said  _ Stevie _ .

  


He opened his mouth and took the wide head of Bucky’s cock between his lips. Bucky rolled his hips, a soft, shallow slide of his cock over Steve’s tongue, and it was the most peculiar sensation Steve had ever experienced. He felt like coughing, but he also wanted to swallow, and he was scared of moving his mouth too much and accidentally biting Bucky.

  


It was… a lot to think about.

  


Bucky’s fingers carded through Steve’s hair.

  


“You’re so amazing, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Stevie, you’re so perfect.”

  


And hadn’t he  _ always _ wanted Bucky to think he was perfect? Hadn’t he wanted Bucky to think he was more than the scrawny, sick kid who needed protecting?

  


Bucky continued to slowly, gently fuck Steve’s mouth, never pushing in too deep, never overwhelming Steve, and he continued to praise him, even though Steve was pretty sure he wasn’t doing much to earn it.

  


“Stevie, sit back.”

  


Steve pulled off of Bucky’s cock, and Bucky tugged him up to his feet.

  


“I was doing it wrong,” Steve said.

  


“No, no, you were great. Seriously.” Bucky kissed away the disbelieving expression on Steve’s face. “But I- I wanted to try something else, if you want to.”

  


“Try what?”

  


Bucky smoothed his right hand over Steve’s ass, teasing his index finger between his cheeks, until he found the pucker of Steve’s opening.

  


“This. I want… I want to be inside you. If you- If that’s okay.”

  


Steve had been surrounded by men fighting a war for the better part of two years. Men who were far from home, far from the girls they loved or wanted to love. Men who were lonely and desperate for comfort and pleasure when they might die at any moment.

  


He knew - in theory, at least - what Bucky was asking for. 

  


“It might hurt,” Bucky said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  


Steve kissed him. That was Bucky. That was  _ his _ Bucky, always trying to protect him.

  


“I want it,” Steve assured him. “I want you inside me.”

  


“You’re sure?”

  


Steve nodded.

  


“I’ll tell you if I change my mind.”

  


Bucky grinned.

  


“You got any Vaseline?”

  


“In my bag.” He jerked a thumb towards the canvas rucksack on the floor, and Bucky knelt by it and started to rummage inside while Steve carelessly swept his notes and maps off of the bed and onto the floor.

  


Bucky chuckled and batted away an errant map that Steve flung in his direction.

  


“There go the plans to win the war,” he muttered, and then grinned when he stood up, holding the tin of Vaseline triumphantly, looking just as pleased with himself as he had when he had won the YMCA welterweight boxing title for the third year in the row and held the trophy up to show Steve.

  


“Get over here,” Steve laughed at him, and Bucky moved towards him, wrapping his arms around Steve and sending both of them crashing back to the bed as their lips found each other.

  


The kissing went on for long enough for the laughter to fade, and for Steve’s body to start to react to the weight of Bucky on top of him, the slide of his smooth, firm muscles as they kissed and caressed, and Steve honestly didn’t care  _ what _ happened to him before or after because he was never, ever going to forget the perfect fit of Bucky Barnes’s mouth and body against his own.

  


One of Bucky’s hands worked down, between Steve’s thighs, and gave Steve’s cock a playful tug before moving lower.

  


His fingers cradled Steve’s balls, gently massaging before moving lower, thumb caressing the sensitive skin until Steve jerked against him and moaned.

  


“You’ve done this before?” Steve asked, his nerve endings alight with arousal and anxiety.

  


“Yeah, once, with this girl.” Bucky managed to pry the lid off of the jar of Vaseline with his other hand.

  


“What- Buck, this isn’t- this isn’t the same as being with a girl.” Even Steve, with his  _ zero _ experience, knew that.

  


“No, no, I know that, baby.” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s neck, opening his mouth wide and licking the spot before he pulled away. “But she wanted me to, you know, do it this way.”

  


“She did?” 

  


“Yeah,” Bucky grinned at Steve. “She was from Paramus, New Jersey.”

  


Steve laughed at that, and Bucky joined in.

  


Hauling Bucky close again, Steve kissed him, wet and sloppy and  _ perfect _ .

  


Bucky pulled away grinning.

  


“Roll over, Stevie. Let me see that perfect ass again.”

  


“I thought  _ I _ was the one giving orders,” Steve grumbled, but he rolled over onto his belly.

  


“I was just asking nicely,” Bucky said, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Steve’s spine.

  


Steve shivered, and then moaned when Bucky licked his way lower and lower and  _ lower, _ until his tongue was tracing the seam between Steve’s ass.

  


“Buck!” Steve had to haul his pillow close and bury his face in it as Bucky teased at his hole. 

  


Steve’s face felt like it was on fire - his entire  _ body _ felt flushed.

  


Bucky’s tongue was doing the most filthy,  _ amazing _ things to him, and Steve couldn’t do anything but moan into his pillow and pray that no one, least of all Bucky, heard him  _ begging _ for more.

  


“Gonna open you up now, Stevie. Just one finger - tell me if it hurts.”

  


Bucky’s voice was rough and low, and it sounded like Steve felt - raw and ravaged.

  


Steve nodded into the pillow, and Bucky chuckled.

  


Cool, slick pressure replaced Bucky’s tongue, gently pressing against Steve’s hole, circling the tight ring, caressing and teasing, and Steve had had no  _ idea _ it could feel good to be touched there.

  


Bucky pressed in, and Steve held his breath.

  


“Relax, Stevie.” Bucky ran his free hand over Steve’s left hip, up and down, the gesture so soothing and familiar it filled Steve’s head with decades of memories.

  


And then Bucky’s finger was inside of him, pushing and burning and- it didn’t hurt. It felt… different. Strange, even, but not  _ bad _ .

  


Bucky wiggled his finger around.

  


“You okay?” he asked Steve.

  


Steve managed to lift his head from the pillow.

  


“Yeah. I’m fine.”

  


Bucky kissed his spine again, and the bed shifted as Bucky moved to prop himself against Steve’s left side. He slid his hand up to Steve’s shoulders, still caressing him in that oh so familiar, absent-minded way. He kissed and licked at Steve’s spine.

  


And wiggled his finger some more, as if he was searching for something, crooking his finger and pushing it in farther and farther and-

  


_ “Christ!” _

  


“Sh, sh, shhh, baby. Keep it down, or the guys’ll think you’re being murdered,” Bucky kissed his shoulder.

  


“What the hell- What did you just  _ do _ ?”

  


He could feel the curve of Bucky’s smirk against his skin.

  


“Something I heard the guys talking about. It’s- I dunno. But there’s this spot,” he demonstrated by touching Steve  _ there _ again, and Steve managed to contain himself to a whimper, “and apparently, it feels really good.”

  


“It does,” Steve assured him. “It feels amazing.”

  


“So you’re still okay?”

  


“Bucky, you jerk, you  _ know _ I’m okay.”

  


“I just don’t want to hurt you, Stevie. It’s- This is one finger, and I’m, uh, bigger than one finger.”

  


Which was a fact that Steve hadn’t really previously considered.

  


He swallowed hard.

  


“Two fingers?” he suggested.

  


“That’s the next step,” Bucky agreed. “You ready?”

  


Steve nodded.

  


Bucky shifted again, the weight and warmth of his body moving away at the same time that he pulled his finger out of Steve’s ass.

  


It left Steve feeling curiously, uncomfortably empty.

  


But then Bucky was back, two fingers coated with Vaseline, gently coaxing them into Steve’s body.

  


It burned more, this time, the stretch painful enough that Steve winced and pressed his lips together tightly from making a sound. 

  


“Steve, Steve,” Bucky was rubbing his shoulders again, clearly noticing the tension in Steve’s muscles.

  


“Keep going.”

  


“Not if I’m hurting you,” Bucky protested, already pulling his fingers away.

  


“No!” Steve pushed back, impaling himself on Bucky’s fingers, and they found that spot inside him again. It still hurt, but now the pain was mixed with pleasure, and Steve whimpered.

  


“You’re such a stubborn punk,” Bucky muttered.

  


He continued to finger Steve, working to hit that spot deep inside of his body, and soon, the pleasure outweighed the pain, and then the pain disappeared entirely.

  


“More,” Steve gasped.

  


“What?”

  


“Another finger,” Steve instructed.

  


“Yes, sir.” Bucky bit his shoulder and then kissed the spot, before coating his fingers with more Vaseline.

  


And the pain was back.

  


But Steve was fairly certain - well, he was  _ hopeful _ \- that it would fade away again, as his body adjusted to Bucky, and he worked to keep his breathing steady as Bucky stretched him, caressing and fondling and kissing Steve, and even with the discomfort, Steve had never felt this... _ much _ before. As if he was the beginning and end of Bucky’s world, as if Steve’s body held every possible feeling - pain and pleasure and tension - all tightly, messily curled together.

  
  


“God, Stevie, you’re the most- the most perfect, amazing thing. You’re incredible, Steve. I love you so much, Stevie, so much.” The mumbled words were soft, peppered against Steve’s skin between kisses.

  


Eventually, three fingers started to feel good, and then it started to feel  _ very _ good.

  


“More,” Steve demanded.

  


“Are you- ready for me?” Bucky asked.

  


Steve swallowed hard and tried to picture it, tried to calculate how much bigger than three fingers Bucky was, but he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

  


“Yeah. Just- go slow.”

  


“Anything you say, Stevie.” Bucky moved away again, the bed shifting, and then Bucky’s hands were on Steve’s thighs, urging his legs wider.

  


“Yeah, your ass - it’s the most perfect ass in the whole damn world.”

  


Steve snorted into the pillow.

  


“Courtesy of Dr. Erskine,” he muttered.

  


“No. No way, Stevie. You’ve always had a great ass. Always had a perfect ass.”

  


Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

  


“You ready?” Bucky asked a moment later.

  


“Yeah,” Steve tried to sound confident.

  


“Steve.”

  


“I am. It’s gonna hurt at first, right? But it- it gets better. It gets  _ good _ ,” he guessed, based on the very limited experience of the past half-hour of Bucky fingering him.

  


“Tell me to stop. Anytime you want.”

  


“I will. But right now, why don’t you try  _ starting _ .”

  


“Punk.”

  


“Jerk.”

  


The thick, broad head of Bucky’s cock pressed against Steve’s hole, and he let out a shaky breath. It felt  _ huge, _ and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell Bucky to stop, but then Bucky was pushing forward.

  


Steve clutched at his pillow and gritted his teeth. Bucky was  _ huge, _ and was this actually even physically  _ possible _ ?

  


Bucky had said he’d done this with some girl from Jersey? Knowing the kinds of girls Bucky usually went for - petite, blonde-haired and slim - Steve had no idea  _ how _ some tiny little dame had managed to take  _ Bucky _ inside of her like this.

  


Inch after burning inch, Bucky slid deeper into Steve’s body, and it was- not as bad as he had thought it would be. Not as painful as that first stretch. Not even as painful as the first plunge of three fingers had been.

  


All of the sudden, Bucky stopped moving.

  


“Buck?”

  


“Yeah?”

  


“You okay?”

  


“Uh-huh. Just, uh, trying to remember how many runs the Dodgers scored against the Phillies in the last game of the season back in ‘40.”

  


Steve huffed a laugh.

  


“Why the hell- What does that matter right now?”

  


“Well, trying to figure it out is the only thing keeping me from coming, Stevie. So just… gimme a minute here, okay? You are- Stevie, you feel too good to be real. You’re like heaven. You’re so tight and so, so,  _ so _ perfect, Stevie.”

  


“The Dodgers scored five runs. Grissom held the Phillies scoreless. Remember, he even got a hit himself?”

  


“Ha,” Bucky laughed. “That sad little grounder down the third base line.”

  


“Yeah, that was the one,” Steve agreed. “You, uh, you okay to move yet?”

  


“You’re so demanding, Stevie.” Bucky leaned over him, pressing the weight of his chest against Steve’s back, and nipped at his neck. 

  


“You need me to  _ order _ you to move, soldier?”

  


“Fuck, yeah. Do that.”

  


Steve swallowed hard. It was one thing to tell Bucky to strip, another entirely to-

  


“Sergeant Barnes,  _ move _ your dick now.”

  


“Yes,  _ sir _ ,” Bucky moaned, and pushed in.

  


And it definitely wasn’t pain that Steve felt now. Not pain at  _ all _ .

  


He found himself moaning in a low, arousal-fueled duet with Bucky. 

  


Bucky shifted, rolling his hips and pushing deeper, and  _ christ. _

  


“There,” Steve panted. “There. That. More of that.”

  


“Yes, sir,” Bucky laughed.

  


He pulled out and pushed back in, and Steve had never felt such intense pleasure. 

  


“ _ Yes _ ,” he breathed. “Just like that, Buck. Just like that.”

  


“You want me to go slow?” Bucky asked, demonstrating with a tortuously slow slide of his cock in and out of Steve’s body. “Or fast?” A quick roll of his hips that drove Steve’s body deep into the mattress and made Steve groan.

  


“Yeah, you want it fast,” Bucky laughed. “Fast and- hard?” He pushed in, and Steve saw stars.

  


“Yeah,” Steve groaned. “Yeah.”

  


And then it was just movement, just the swift, powerful push of Bucky into him over and over again, as they both struggled to breathe and Steve struggled to  _ exist _ as his body felt consumed by Bucky’s cock, and by the building, blinding, burning heat in his own belly.

  


“God, this is the- best- Stevie- you’re- you feel- you gonna- can you come again? Wanna- wanna make you- come for me, sweetheart. Come for me, Stevie.”

  


Bucky’s broken voice, crooning into Steve’s ear even as his chest shuddered against Steve’s back was, without a doubt, something Steve planned on remembering every single time he touched himself for the rest of his life. 

  


“Close,” he moaned. “I’m close, Buck.”

  


“What- what do you- what can I do- for you?”

  


“This. Just- just this, Buck. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I’m close. I’m so close, Buck. I-”

  


Bucky bit his shoulder again, the unexpected pain making Steve cry out into his pillow as he came and came, and it felt like he was  _ dying _ it was so intense, and  _ christ, _ it wasn’t ending and-

  


Above him, Bucky gave a sudden, sharp thrust, and then he stilled, his grip on the sheets beside Steve going white-knuckled, and he made a low, shocked sound that Steve couldn’t tell was in pain or pleasure. Bucky gave another shallow thrust, his whole body trembling, and then another, before he collapsed on top of Steve.

  


“Oh my god, Rogers, I think you just murdered me.”

  


“You’re the one trying to suffocate me, jerk.” Steve elbowed him, and Bucky huffed and struggled away.

  


His cock slipped from Steve’s ass, and he could feel the trail of Bucky’s come across his thighs as the other man moved and rolled to the side.

  


Steve turned to look at him, but Bucky was staring up at the ceiling.

  


“Wow,” Bucky said.

  


Steve grinned and kissed him.

  


“Yeah. Wow.”

  


Bucky smirked, flashing that elusive dimple. He looked content, happy and utterly exhausted in the best way possible. He looked, for the first time in months, like  _ Bucky _ .

  


Steve moved closer, and Bucky lifted his arm while Steve curled against his side and rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

  


And how many times had they done this? Curled together because they fell asleep reading on the couch, or because it was cold, or because Bucky came home late and laid down on Steve’s bed to tell him all about whatever girl he had spent the night romancing and-

  


“What are you thinking about?” Bucky asked him.

  


“The mess we just made all over my plans for our victory parade.”

  


Bucky snorted a laugh and pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

  


“What are you thinking about?” Steve asked.

  


Bucky continued to run his fingers over Steve’s arm, the drag of his uneven nails perhaps the most perfect thing Steve had ever felt.

  


“You remember our last Christmas in Brooklyn? We had dinner with my Ma - Becca was there with her fella, and David and Mary kept tryin’ to get you to draw them.”

  


“I remember.” Steve shifted his head lower on Bucky’s chest, until it was directly over the steady beat of Bucky’s heart.

  


“And after dinner, we went back to our apartment and listened to the wireless, and that song came on - you remember that song?”

  


“Yeah,” Steve admitted. “I remember that song.”

  


“You sang it to me. You were still all cold and your cheeks were red and your feet were fucking freezing, and I was trying to get you warm, and you just stood there and sang that song to me.”

  


“Yeah,” Steve smiled. “I did.”

  


“Do you remember how it goes, Stevie? I only remember some of the words.”

  


“You want me to sing it to you again?”

  


“Yeah, I do.”

  


With anyone else, Steve would have felt ridiculous, but he wasn’t with anyone else. He was with Bucky.

  


So he drew in a deep breath, and started to sing.

  


_ “If I didn't care more than words can say _

_ If I didn't care, would I feel this way? _

_ If this isn't love then why do I thrill? _

_ And what makes my head go 'round and 'round _

_ While my heart stands still? _

_ If I didn't care, would it be the same? _

_ Would my every prayer begin and end with just your name? _

_ And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare? _

_ Would all this be true if I didn't care for you? _

_ If I didn't care _

_ Honey child, more than words can say _

_ If I didn't care _

_ Would I feel this way?  _

_ Darlin' if this isn't love _

_ Then why do I thrill so much?  _

_ And what is it that makes my head go 'round and 'round  _

_ While my heart just stands still so much? _

_ If I didn't care would it be the same? _

_ Would my every prayer begin and end with just your name? _

_ And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare? _

_ Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?” _

  


-o-

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to Ro, the best beta I could never even have dreamed of having.
> 
> —  
> Uh, just a quick little note:
> 
> According to the MCU timeline, the Howling Commandos raid a HYDRA train carrying Zola in January 1945, and Bucky Barnes falls from the train and is presumed dead.
> 
> So all of this - the fic you just read - happens the week before Bucky sort of... not really but more or less... dies.
> 
> \--  
> A note about the song:  
> "If I Didn't Care" was written by Jack Lawrence in 1939 and was first recorded by the Ink Spots. It became the 10th best selling single OF ALL TIME.  
> You might recognize it from the movie "Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day", when Amy Adams sings it with Lee Pace accompanying her on the piano.
> 
> \--  
> A note about the fic:  
> Kangofu-CB wanted a "good" strip-poker fic and I'm pretty sure this isn't at all what she wanted but well...


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